<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>private fears by lildemonsemen</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252659">private fears</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildemonsemen/pseuds/lildemonsemen'>lildemonsemen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Dragon Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Fix-It: s01e06 Rare Species, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Not a fix-it yet but it will be, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Quarantine Fanfic Boom, Songfic, about 6 months post breakup, bc I keep forgetting to respond to comments lmao, but blink and you'll miss it - 1000 crowns to who guesses right, jaskier sad makes yennefer sad because despite bitchy rivalries he is the sunshine child to everyone, will become a longfic during this time of isolation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:22:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildemonsemen/pseuds/lildemonsemen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> He keeps feebly hoping that if he gives voice to his heartbreak, releases it into the world through his music, that it will perhaps not return to him; let him move on. So far, it hasn’t worked. But Jaskier figures he may as well keep trying. </i>
</p><p>  <i>His heart is already broken, and he can’t tear open wounds that haven’t even begun to close. </i></p><p>  <i>And so, Jaskier sings. <i></i></i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>535</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>private fears</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Jaskier looks out into the crowd filling the tavern, and idly thinks he probably looks half-mad, with how his paranoia must show in the way his eyes flit around. He just has to be absolutely certain that he isn’t here, if he’s to play this song.</p><p class="p1"><em>Her Sweet Kiss, </em>next to <em>Toss a Coin, </em>is the most popular song he’s ever written, and Jaskier finds it a little funny — in a horrible way — that his two best known compositions mark the beginning and the end of his and Geralt’s...whatever it was. He wants to say friendship, for all that even having that had left him <em>wanting, </em>but when he’d been blissfully ignorant enough to believe they were friends, that had been enough.</p><p class="p1">Now, of course, he knows better.</p><p class="p1"><em>Her Sweet Kiss</em> cuts him deep when he sings it, but now all of the songs about Geralt — <em>all</em> of Jaskier’s songs, really, all the ones that matter to him — hurt, so he figures he may as well be honest in his performances and not disguise his misery. Jaskier doesn’t even really bother to disguise the fact that his songs of doomed romance are also about Geralt and not some fair, nameless maiden, despite the creeping fear that one day he’ll spy golden eyes in the audience that finally <em>see</em> him. But he’s tired. Despite his youth — forty is nothing to his kind, after all — he feels old and worn down. He finds it very difficult, nigh on impossible, now to conjure up a false, sunny smile regardless of the coin it would earn him.</p><p class="p1">Luckily, in times of war heartache and longing sells, so. Good timing, he figures.</p><p class="p1">Jaskier still has to steel himself before playing his newest composition, not even a song, really; it barely rhymes. It's a poem of his, but merely writing it hadn't relieved him of the emotions lying in his words, the sorrow saturating the hopeless adoration he still can’t shake. He keeps feebly hoping that if he gives voice to his pain, releases it into the world through his music, that it will perhaps not return to him; let him move on. So far, it hasn’t worked. But Jaskier figures he may as well keep trying. His heart is already broken, and he can’t tear open wounds that haven’t even begun to close.</p><p class="p1">And so, Jaskier sings.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“So cold is the wind it blows your hair</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>So warm is your touch upon my skin</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>How tired am I of being scared?</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>But how awake am I now that I know you're here?</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>I'd rather fight with you than laugh with another</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I'd rather freeze in your arms than be warm under covers</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I'd let you hit me before I'd ever let you hit the floor”</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A faint prickling at the back of his neck and the sudden scent-taste of magic in the air has his keen eyes snapping to the source, meeting a familiar violet gaze. He doesn’t falter. Jaskier ignores her calculative look and downturned lips, and plays on.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>“And I'd rather choke than to breathe in your absence</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I'd rather feel your wrath than feel another's passion</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I'd rather die on the day that I give you a kiss</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Than spend the rest of my life knowing I never did</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>So just hold me and tell me that I'm everything you need</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Tell me that that lonely heart of yours</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>That I've been dying for isn’t out of reach</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Let me look into your eyes like I am searching for your soul</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Wrap my arms around your waist like it is dying from the cold</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Run my fingers through your hair like they are water from the drain</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Press my lips against your back like they could take away its pain</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>And to give you everything there is nothing I won't do</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Tear my heart apart forever, and it’ll still belong to you</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I know you're feeling tired just let me hold you for a bit</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Dive my face between your thighs until I cannot feel my lips, oh"</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">That particular part is met with whistles and lewd shouts. Jaskier allows a grin to grace his face, throwing a saucy wink at the audience before sobering, breathing deep; the next lines are...hard. Something must show on his face, because the tavern quiets. When Jaskier sings, his voice is at once hopeful and defeated.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>"I know that you think I'm kind of odd</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>But if your love is a mountain I swear that I'd climb to the top</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I would tell you you're lovely and everything I'll ever need</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I would give you my all if you'd just come and stand next to me.”</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Jaskier summons a weak smile and appreciative wave of his hand in lieu of a flamboyant bow when his weepy audience claps for him. He excuses himself, and — feeling quite brave, honestly — strides over to where Yennefer sits in the back of the tavern, two appropriately large wine glasses on the table.</p><p class="p1">She’s as infuriatingly enchanting as always, as well as overdressed in a very provocative cherry-red, velvet gown that hugs her figure and accentuates her breasts — that also garner attention thanks to a ruby necklace that dips right between them. </p><p class="p1"><em>Someone’s become </em>available, Jaskier thinks, rather rudely. He then chastises himself for the hypocritical judgment as he notes his own attire; a slim fitting leather doublet, black — very unusual for him, and he was relieved when told it makes him look extremely sexy, not like he’s in mourning — with blood red notches reminiscent of a snake’s scales, paired with very, <em>very</em> tightly tailored trousers, <em>also</em> black leather, with vermilion stitching up the sides of his legs that reminds Jaskier of a woman’s corset. They're his favorite pair. Not to mention his shoes; tall crimson boots to complete the ensemble, adorned with scarlet and black whip stitches. They hit just above his knees, not <em>quite</em> at his thighs, like the boots whores wear, but close enough. He, too, looks very <em>available. </em></p><p class="p1">Jaskier collapses inelegantly into the chair across from her, already exhausted by the encounter. He meets her eyes for a moment and nods his head in thanks before downing half the glass — goblet, really — and breathing in shakily.</p><p class="p1">The two of them sit in an oddly comfortable, if somber, silence as the humans around them mill about and drink themselves stupid so they can laugh and forget the chaos of the world for a moment.</p><p class="p1">“What’s the name of your song?” Yennefer suddenly asks quietly, and when Jaskier looks up from his glass, peering at her beneath his curled eyelashes, her purple gaze is gentle. Not pitying. Just...sad.</p><p class="p1"><em>“Private Fears,”</em> Jaskier replies, looking down into his goblet of delicious sadness wine.</p><p class="p1">There’s a long moment of silence between them, before Yennefer speaks, just as softly, “What are you afraid of?”</p><p class="p1">Jaskier laughs weakly, his sorrow embedded in the noise, “All of it. I’m afraid it’s all true. And — it is. It’s all true, and that’s — that’s frightening.”</p><p class="p1">Yennefer nods, though Jaskier can tell she doesn’t quite understand what it’s like to be afraid of the depth of your own emotions. She folds her hands together, wringing them for only a moment but betraying her discomfort. Jaskier is delighted by how ungracefully she breaks the silence.</p><p class="p1">“I liked the bit about sucking his cock,” Yennefer blurts out, smiling slightly with laughter in her eyes.</p><p class="p1">“I try to be honest in my art,” Jaskier replies loftily. Yennefer hums thoughtfully. </p><p class="p1">“He should suck yours first," she declares, pointing a finger at him imperiously. "When Geralt gets on his knees to beg for your forgiveness, make him work for it,” she smirks, winking mischievously at him. Jaskier blushes at the mental image; he’s dreamt of fucking his throat on Geralt’s doubtlessly glorious cock for years, but the reversal of positions is a very rare fantasy.</p><p class="p1">He’s so distracted by it that he just accepts the certainty of the sorceress’ belief that Geralt will apologize. Maybe not get on his knees, but a man can dream — <em>and</em> now he can't stop imagining it. Lovely. Jaskier shifts in his seat uncomfortably, cursing his whorish trousers. They make his legs and ass look <em>sinful</em> but gods they do not hide<em> anything</em> and he hasn't gotten laid in weeks, his dry spells lengthening ever since — well, since.</p><p class="p1">Not for lack of offers; everyone wants him even more these days. If Jaskier had known pitifully pining so openly would add to his sex appeal, he’d have unleashed his misery upon the world years ago. As is, for the first time in his life he no longer constantly desires to bed anyone attractive and willing. A huge part of his identity stolen from him, really. Here and there he’ll give it a go, just to sate natural urges, but it isn’t thrilling like before, and it’s always men, now, and while that's just as fun as women it's a blaring reminder of who he’s trying in vain to forget — who he can’t have. The only person he’s ever truly wanted, body and soul; truly loved.</p><p class="p1">Despite all his purple prose, Jaskier knows what true love is, what it feels like. What he's felt for past lovers were the feelings of a promiscuous artist who loved any form of beauty, the affairs passionate and fleeting. What he feels for Geralt is depthless, immortal; helpless adoration, devotion, exasperation, worry, and a million other feelings, so many he wouldn't be able to identify all of them if he lived for a thousand years, but he knows that what he feels is true love.</p><p class="p1">As he dwells on these thoughts while also trying to inconspicuously hide his treacherous downstairs problem, Yennefer is watching his struggle and laughs, her head tipping back, the sound lovely in its genuineness. Despite his mortification, Jaskier smiles a little. </p><p class="p1">After Jaskier manages to sadden himself enough to go soft and Yennefer stops laughing, they sit quietly again for a little while, both drinking their wine, and though Jaskier keeps his gaze lowered, he can sense Yennefer is trying to figure out what to say. She shocks Jaskier by taking one of his hands carefully in her own. Her touch is warm.</p><p class="p1">“I know this might shock you, given our past interactions,” <em>O</em><em>ur</em> <em>bitchy rivalry, </em>Jaskier’s mind supplies, “but I like you.” Jaskier blinks, then blinks again.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, <em>you like me?</em> Like, you won’t threaten my most treasured bits this particular evening or —" Yennefer huffs and barrels on like he hasn’t said anything.</p><p class="p1">“I see you,” Yennefer says, and the scent-taste of magic whirls in the air between them, and Jaskier doesn’t like that at all. His nervousness is proven unfounded by her words.</p><p class="p1">“I see you, Julian, and you are a good man, a <em>truly</em> good man, kind down to your core. The sort of person I’ve scarcely seen in all my years, and — I’m sorry you’re unhappy. You don’t deserve to be. You didn’t deserve Geralt’s cruelty, and he doesn’t deserve to have a friend who cherishes him like you do,” she tells him, words and tone just as kind but with a fire lying beneath it that makes Jaskier think she might actually be <em>angry</em> for him.</p><p class="p1">Jaskier swallows hard, and tentatively squeezes Yennefer’s hand once before pulling it away, the idea that this is all some weird illusion perhaps caused by some drug she’s put in the wine swirling in his head.</p><p class="p1">“No. No, I didn’t deserve it,” Jaskier agrees, feeling stronger than he has in weeks, months, maybe. He predictably falters, as he always does when faced with the idea of Geralt all alone in the world. “But Geralt doesn’t deserve — I mean to say...well...everyone deserves someone. Happiness. And I can’t hate him, I can’t stop —" he chokes, and would be horrified to show such weakness in front of the sorceress, but something about her tonight has Jaskier disregarding all past feelings about her. Maybe because he’s never seen this tender empathy from her, that he somehow knows with absolute certainty Geralt hasn’t seen. Or maybe Jaskier is just that lonely.</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay,” Yennefer murmurs, and takes his hand again, holding it with a firmer grip that says she’ll be comforting him whether he likes it or not. “I’ve been heartbroken —"</p><p class="p1">“Sure, because you actually <em>had</em> him —"</p><p class="p1">“No, never. I never did,” Yennefer interrupts, with a stern look that quiets any of Jaskier’s arguments. “Ending things didn't break my heart. It was — a long time ago,” she shakes her head slightly, dark curls bouncing with it as she seems to rid herself of painful memories.</p><p class="p1">Yennefer pins him with one of her intense stares, that now doesn’t make Jaskier feel like a cornered animal, but rather like he has an — ally. “I want you to know I’m sorry, because what Geralt and I had was never real, I know that now. But what you and he had was. And he broke your heart anyway. I’m sorry that I caused that." There’s a weakness to her that Jaskier has never seen; a vulnerability. She actually feels guilty. He doesn’t miss the implication that she must’ve sought him out deliberately to make this apology.</p><p class="p1">“What? No! It's — it's not your fault, Yennefer. And — wait, what do you mean that you know <em>now?” </em></p><p class="p1">“The djinn wish. I broke the tie that Geralt made, the massive idiot. It wasn’t easy, but I did it somehow, I think I was just angry enough that — well, anyway, when I broke it, it was like a fog lifted, for both of us.” Yennefer clasps her other hand over their joined ones as she levels him with another intense look, and this time Jaskier does feel fear, dreading whatever she’ll say next. “Jaskier, the moment the djinn’s magic left our minds, Geralt’s only thoughts were of you. He’s looking for you.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t tell him where I am. Please,” Jaskier says in a pleading rush, suddenly panicked. Yennefer purses her lips, but nods.</p><p class="p1">“I won’t. But I’ve no doubt you’ll find each other. And when you do, well, be prepared. Just...think about it. Really think about what you want for <em>yourself. </em>And I meant what I said, make him <em>beg,” </em>Yennefer adds, a more familiar venom in her voice that makes Jaskier smile a little. “From the songs I’ve heard you singing, he’s hurt you. Terribly. And maybe you’re right, that everyone deserves happiness, but Geralt doesn’t deserve the love you have for him. I’ve seen enough over the last decade or so to know that. Make him earn it back.”</p><p class="p1">“He still has it."</p><p class="p1">“I know, little lark,” Yennefer rises and kisses him on the cheek. “But don’t just hand him your broken heart.”</p><p class="p1">The sorceress leaves, and Jaskier sits for a while longer, heart aching and indecisive; he’s angry and hurt and<em> so fucking hopeful</em> and —</p><p class="p1">Jaskier smiles wistfully, the truth leaving him in a melodic sigh,</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting.”</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>clue for Jaskier's species: what animal smells with their tongue? ^ "scent-taste"<br/>- - -<br/>the song is Private Fears in Public Places by front porch step. I edited the song a little to better suit Jaskier and Geralt and also there’s a line about a blender that I altered because like they don’t have blenders lol and he says “ain’t” at one point which also had to be fixed. I was listening to my angst playlist and this came on and I got geraskier bathtub feelings with the hair and kissing his back lines :’) and the stupid motherfucking mountain where people go to ruin lives<br/>- - -<br/>also that wip longfic i mentioned in the tags won't be chapters added on to this that story starts like three months post-canon</p><p>———<br/>Someone guessed right so check the comments for the right creatures (it’s a dragon :D)</p><p>----- <br/>someone please draw me Jaskier in his Single-and-Ready-To-Mingle-But-Not-Really outfit</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>